


Torne

by Merely_Specters



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e05 Life of the Party, Ficlet, Friendship..?, Gen, Just two homies with unhealthy coping mechanisms, Light Angst, Missing Scene, One Shot, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merely_Specters/pseuds/Merely_Specters
Summary: Just because Lorne no longer sleeps doesn't mean he welcomes the night.
Relationships: Lorne | Krevlornswath & Spike (BtVS)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Torne

**Author's Note:**

> This story taked place post Lorne getting his sleep removed, a couple of days before Life of the Party.

Wolfram and Hart was dark, in more ways than one. Like every other night, the building was darker inside than outside; at least outside, street lamps and neon billboards illuminated the LA roads. These halls were unlit, save for a few lights gleaming in the offices.

The only bulbs illuminating Lorne’s office were those on his vanity; they lit up Lorne’s face as he sat on the bench, his elbows pressed on the tabletop for support.

Lorne held his phone to his ear. “Now, I’m sure we can clear this up. Did you..? Oh. No, honey,” he reassured, “I’m sure you’ll—no, don’t cry—”

A dial tone was Lorne’s only reward for his efforts.

Lorne sighed, and picked up his to-do list. _Well, Melissa’s finished, at least_. _I’ll follow up in a few days._ He scanned the page. _I talked to Brian, Mickey, Tarduk, Ve’takle, and Jen. Looks like the next on the list is Ashley._

Lorne began to dial Ashley’s number, but then he looked at the time.

_It’s four a.m.? No. No, it was eleven p.m. a few moments ago._ Lorne blinked. _Ashley will be asleep. Come to think of it, so will everybody on this list_. Lorne massaged his temples. _My next appointment should be at seven o’clock, so… three hours from now. Three hours._

Lorne gently set down his phone. When had his hand started shaking? _I need another drink._ Lorne put his head in his hands. _Should I go to my apartment? No, I only have three hours, by the time I get there it’ll almost be time for me to come back anyways. I’ll just stay here, catch up on paperwork._

 _God, I need a shower. The company shower_ , Lorne resolved. _I keep a spare suit in my office anyways._

Lorne grabbed what he needed and quietly made his way through the halls. He made his way into the bathroom, setting down his orange bathrobe and towels by the counter before stepping into the streaming water.

The nice thing about taking a shower in the middle of the night was that it was always hot. Not that the water at Wolfram and Hart was anything but hot; they probably heated it with the fires of hell itself. But at night, without anyone else to use the hot water, there was less of a chance of starting a shower with steaming water and ending it cold. The only cold came from within.

As the hot water hit his back, Lorne began to sing.

†

Tuesday nightlife in Los Angeles was always shoddy. On these types of nights, Spike would explore the endless halls of Wolfram and Hart under the cover of darkness, but tonight, there wasn’t much more to explore. There were few halls that remained unseen after weeks of searching and scheming.

Now, Spike was bored. So here he sat. Alone. Outside of Angel’s office. _Pathetic._

Spike had resigned himself to endless boredom when he heard a faint song. _Lorne. The devil must still be up._ Spike hopped up and followed the song.

The music stopped just as Spike reached the bathroom. Quickly, he ducked through a wall, narrowly avoiding Lorne walking by. He waited a few moments before peeking out, watching Lorne’s back as he walked toward his office.

_Well, if anything, I can scare him._

Spike waited until he saw Lorne walk into his office. He snuck up to the doorway, ready to spook him, and poked his head through the closed door.

Lorne sat at his vanity. His hair was still wet; he clutched a hairbrush between his palms like it was a prayer. His shoulders were... shaking? That couldn't be right.

Spike didn’t know Lorne terribly well: in all his days at the office, Lorne had darted in and out without interacting much with Spike. That said, Spike didn’t exactly welcome Lorne when he _did_ say hi. Maybe Lorne had just stopped trying.

But Spike had seen more of Lorne recently. Lately, Lorne had been staying in his office later and later.

And now Lorne’s shoulders were shaking.

Intrigued, Spike slipped back through the door to the hallway. Even outside of the room he began to hear Lorne. Lorne wasn’t singing anymore, but he _was_ humming. Spike heard a few bars of one song, a few bars of another. He thought he recognized House of the Rising Sun… Maybe a bit of ABBA? They began to blend.

The notes became discordant, rising in pitch and in intensity.

Louder.

Faster.

Higher.

Higher.

Higher—

Lorne slammed the hairbrush down just as the glass near Spike cracked.

“I’m fine,” Lorne muttered to the mirror. “I’m fine.”

Spike quietly waited just outside the door. Finally, he heard a rustle of fabric. Lorne must have changed.

Spike stepped through the door. “Hey.”

Lorne yelped, clutching his discarded bathrobe between two hands. He now wore a bright yellow suit with a floral print emblazoned across the lapel. “Oh, you scared me,” he said. An easy smile fit onto Lorne’s face, and he shifted into the boisterous personality Spike was used to.

Spike leaned on the wall. “Saw you up and, seeing as I don’t sleep and all, wanted to pop in. Why are you up so late?”

Lorne laughed uncomfortably. “Oh you know what they say; the city never sleeps. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

Lorne opened the door, shooing Spike out. He closed it, and his shoulders slumped. _Good riddance_. Lorne turned back to his vanity just in time to catch Spike’s head popping through the closed door.

Lorne frowned. “Anyone ever talk to you about boundaries, blondie?”

“You really think a door is enough to keep me?”

Almost mechanically, Lorne’s persona came right back up. “Well, if you’re here, sugar, you can keep me company. I was just pouring myself a Seabreeze.”

Spike paused. “Look, mate. I’ll leave you alone if you ask.”

“No, Spike, you’re free to stay as long as you like.”

“Don’t give me that,” Spike said, suddenly serious. “You need me gone? I’ll leave before you finish asking. But you have to ask.”

An uncomfortable expression flitted across Lorne’s face. After a pause, he said, “I can’t turn down hosting a guest in my office. Make yourself comfortable.”

Spike’s lip curled. “You’re so passive.”

“I’m fine with that, Spike.”

“What? You think if you keep saying that, it’ll come true?”

Lorne’s expression turned cold. “You know, beauties need their sleep. Maybe I do need some space.”

Spike smirked. “Finally.” He got up off of the couch. “All you had to do was ask.” Spike got halfway out the door, then popped his head back in. “You know, you don’t always have to be a host. I’m sure if you asked your _friends_ , they’d be happy to leave, too.”

Lorne smiled bitterly. “Goodnight.”

Spike finally left the room, and Lorne’s smile dropped. Lorne poured himself a whiskey.

_My friends leaving is what I’m so worried about, Spike._

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how anyone feels safe taking a shower at Wolfram and Hart, but if Fred did, so could Lorne.


End file.
